


Fateful Findings

by underneaththepleasure



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Confusing, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Slow Burn, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28177269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underneaththepleasure/pseuds/underneaththepleasure
Summary: Geralt finds himself responsible for a naive and sheltered young woman unexpectedly torn from her home. He learns rather quickly that she is more than simply human - and more than just a handful. WARNING: some consensual and some non-consensual spankings of wild young women and pestering bards.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27
Collections: Spanking





	Fateful Findings

She had always felt a connection to the ground beneath her. Even now, at nearly 20 years old, she remembered the first time her tiny feet hit the earth, when her mother held her hands and helped her take baby steps through the grass. From that moment on, she’d always fought to be outside, whether it be a hot summer’s day or in the midst of a storm. It drove her mother insane - the poor woman would turn her back for a moment and the child was already halfway out the door. 

“Edith!” she remembered her mother constantly shouting out the open window. She thought that somehow, her mother figured the earth would reclaim her if she didn’t keep a close enough eye on the child. 

Edith had never met her father. From the time Edith was a small child, her mother had only made passing mentions of the nameless man from the woods who’d swept her off her feet. Her mother - called Lydia - could only speak of him for brief moments at a time before she was overcome by some distant look that Edith never quite understood. Edith tried to keep talk of him to a bare minimum, but she couldn’t help but feel that her quirks were linked to him. 

The first time Edith realized she was different, she was only 6 years old. It was midsummer - the weather was perfectly temperate, the sun was high in the sky. She’d been playing hard all morning with her friends, sweat stuck to her forehead, and she plopped herself down onto a pillowy patch of moss for a quick rest. She remembered clearly wishing that the moss patch was longer and wider to accommodate her body, hoping for a midday nap. When she felt the tickling of grass and moss moving under her legs, she leapt up and was speechless watching as the patch grew and changed to make her more comfortable. She should have been scared. But instead, she put her ear to the ground and whispered, “Thank you.” 

Edith was on her own now - secluded to her own little home in the forest. Her mother had long passed on, becoming one with the soil beneath her feet. She felt more grateful than usual for her gift in this instance, as she still felt a closeness with her mother long after her passing. Her gift had grown exponentially; her connection to the earth and the wilderness felt as strong and deep-rooted as any relationship she’d had with another person. This force, a nameless being she felt speaking to her without words, had saved her life on many occasions. It warned her when danger was approaching, when a snowstorm was about to hit, even the most miniscule things like telling her she was overwatering her vegetable garden. 

It was the day before her 20th birthday when the earth trembled with warning like she’d never felt. A dark, twisting sense of fear gripped her body. 

_Run_ , cried the earth.

_Run_.

_Run_. 

Edith couldn’t move. Though her feet buzzed with the need to run, as far and as fast as she could, she felt frozen. What did this mean? Her childhood home, the place she had rooted; she couldn’t leave this place. She had never left this place. But the trees began to moan, and wind blew hard, moving her backward, urging her to leave. This force had never steered her wrong - and she couldn’t argue with it now. Not when it was clearly a matter of life and death. 

So she ran. 

// 

Geralt stayed silent, eyes black, body tense. The army of witch hunters, known as the Scourge, moved quietly through the forest in search of the druid child. He’d been watching the young woman for months - of course, she had no idea. He hadn’t planned on frightening her - she lived in a naive, blissful way that he intended to preserve. As the days passed, he found himself feeling increasingly protective over the girl. She peaked his interest. He could read people better than most - this woman never displayed any malice or ill-intent in her day to day living. It was rare to see someone acting so purely while no one was watching. 

He did not know her name, he doubted he ever would until today. Geralt had focused his efforts on leading the hunters away from her haven - for the life of him, he could not fathom how they caught her scent. Now he knew that their paths were about to cross - he prayed she didn’t reject his help. He knew she could crush him in an instant; the exchange of energy he’d witnessed between the druid and the earth was incredible, just as much as it was terrifying - though he felt confident that such an action wasn’t in her nature. 

Once he was sure that the hunters had actually picked up her scent and not something else, he left his position and headed swiftly toward the girl’s haven. He hoped the spirit that protected her would help him today, as it had done up until this point - he knew she would’ve been alerted by any other presence watching her. The spirit knew he was protecting her, and had kept his presence a secret from her. As he approached her home, a gust of wind stopped him in his tracks, heading west. He ignored it at first, but as he continued toward the girl’s home the wind blew stronger, ushering him in the other direction. Geralt sighed, feeling frustrated that he may just be about to follow a random breeze. 

He ran hard, heading west, not a clue what he was running toward. The wind followed him for about a mile until it stopped as suddenly as it had started. Geralt slowed to a stop and looked around him, seeing nothing but brush and old, tall trees. 

A crack echoed from above his head, immediately catching his attention. He watched, very surprised, as the girl fell fast directly above him. Geralt reacted swiftly, catching her with very little effort - her build reminded him of a sapling. She gasped and froze in his arms, looking like a child caught doing something naughty. He raised an eyebrow at her, but wasted no time continuing onward, breaking into a sprint with the girl slung over his shoulder.

“No!” she screamed, wriggling hard. Geralt anticipated and simply held on tighter. What he did not anticipate was the piercing bite to his upper arm, and he nearly dropped the girl before steading himself. Out of instinct, he gave her a sharp swat to her bottom, causing her to yelp out and release his flesh from her teeth. 

“Let me DOWN!” she screamed. “Baba, help me!” 

Geralt, feeling a pang of sympathy, darted off into a closed off section of brush and put her down. She immediately tried to run but he grabbed her arm and held her still. 

“I have been watching you for months. If your ‘baba’ thought I was a threat, don’t you think it would’ve warned you by now?” Geralt said, firmly but hushed. He didn’t want the hunter’s catching their scent - this was already a risk. She gave him an extremely strange look, before gasping and turning around to stare in the direction of her home. 

“Are there people in my house? Why-”

“That’s why I’m here,” Geralt interjected. “We have to move. My name is Geralt of Rivia. I’m a Witcher. I caught wind of a witch hunt brewing a few months back, and the Scourge has finally picked up your scent. Now please, stop struggling and let me help you.” 

The girl nearly flinched as she did it, but she reached up toward him and let him pick her up once more, and they were on their way. 

//

Edith could feel the darkness entering her home. She felt fire, anguish, and destruction. It struck her that from this moment on, she had no home. She would never see her garden again. All of her paintings, her woven blankets, everything she owned but the clothes on her back - even her mother’s spirit - all lost. She felt her chest tighten in a way that she hadn’t felt since her mother’s passing. 

She buried her face in the Witcher’s shoulder and cried quietly to herself, doing her best to tune out the world around her. 


End file.
